


Angelus and the Fledge

by Herself_nyc



Series: Unfinished Buffy-verse Fics [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: M/M, Story Fragment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2014-09-07
Packaged: 2018-02-16 10:56:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2267142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Herself_nyc/pseuds/Herself_nyc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angelus meets Drusilla's new toy, William ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Angelus and the Fledge

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story fragment. I was playing with Angelus and just-turned Spike-before-he-became-Spike. A chance to write some dialogue for these two.

Angelus turned the key in the lock, and deposited the key in his pocket, before turning to address the new one. 

"You a 'varsity man, Willie?" 

"Pratt. I'm called Pratt." 

"You a 'varsity man, Willie?" 

"Do have the goodness, Mr Angelus, to--" 

"S'no goodness in me, Willie, no use askin' for it. An' no use calling me _mister_ neither; t'isn't any part o'my name. Aren't none of us Mister nor Missus here. Now do tell us what we seek to know. Are you a--" 

" _Yes_. Magdalen, Cambridge." 

"Ah . . . that's a fine place, so I hear. They're all fine English ge'mun there. I was the son of a ge'mun once myself, you know, though but an Irish one. You think that makes me a second-class sort of fella, now don't you?" 

"No, I--" 

"Aww, now yer too polite. Mustn't _pre_ -varicate with me, Willie. You'll find I don't care for it, in general. However, let it go, let it go. Now you tell us, which of the eminent public schools for the sons of English ge'mun did you attend 'fore that?" 

"H-h-h-harrow." 

"Ha ha ha ha Harrow?" Angelus threw his head back and laughed. "Must've been quite a funny place, to earn that appellation." 

"No," the lad said, frowning. 

Angelus stepped closer to him, brought his lips right up against the white-rimmed ear, an ear that, had its owner been alive still, would've been pink and heated by now, with indignation, embarrassment. Stirrings of apprehension. 

"What was it now, that they learned you at Harrow?  


The lad stepped back, and Angelus stepped close again. The lad stepped back, and then, oh dear, there he was against the wall, nowhere else to go. 

"I was taught . . . Greek, and Latin. You know. I am sure that you, also, even in Ireland, were taught--" 

Angelus laughed again. " _Even_ in Ireland! Even in Ireland, he sez, they must have such civilization as that! Oho! I thank ye for that, laddie!" 

Drusilla's new toy was rather fun. 

He'd already demonstrated himself a brave boy, and a foolish, impetuous one--which was fine, as it afforded plenty of scope for correction, a sport Angelus excelled at and relished. 

He was a pretty thing, too. That's what Angelus liked; he had no letch for great brawny fellows with hairy bungholes, but give him such as this, a small fair man with a smooth pleasing face, neat slim hips that augered a pucker like a dear little rosebud, and he'd stand proud for such all day. 

"You're . . . you're welcome." He feinted; Angelus clapped a hand on his shoulder to keep him there. 

"I'm welcome, am I? Well, there's good news. So tell me, Willie. Tell me what they learned you at Harrow school." 

He was still looking away, and he was breathing--something he'd not yet forgotten to do. It was rather charming. "I . . . I just did." 

"Ah, no. There must've been more than that. A sweet little laddie such as yerself, comely an' tidy as you are, must've been taught a thing or two . . . by his elders an' betters." 

"I . . . I do not know what you mean, sir." 

"Do not know what I mean, sir? What, never performed any little services for the big hearty lads? 

Angelus squeezed the shoulder still in his grip and moved in on the other ear, whispering right into its pearly whorl. "Don't tell me our Dru found hersel' the last boy virgin in London-town?" 

He did it then. He blushed. The tint in those papery cheeks was a blazon of innocence--or, perhaps, guilt? And meant too that he was getting entirely too much to eat for a fledge, if he could raise pink on nothing but a suspicion of having been buggered. Would have to see about that. 

But for now . . . Angelus lifted a lazy hand and cuffed him to the floor. 

"I say! What was that for?" 

He was up again immediately, fists ready and fangs already halfway down. Angelus seized the two halves of his shirt in his hands, and tore it off him. 

The expression on the boy's face was as good as the play. 

He tried to get in a hit, but he'd have done better to defend his waist-band. 

Shame about the tailoring, but the rags would do later for stopping his mouth, if such was needed. 

"What--what are you doing?" His voice angling up into a boyish note of panic. 

"Well now," Angelus said with a smile, "what do you reckon I'm doing?" 

"I cannot tell, but it must stop--!" Boy made another move--this time after the key. Angelus caught the hand plunging for his trousers pocket, and dragged it instead against the front. For a moment the boy's palm curled around his tented splitter, and his mouth was a perfect O of incomprehension. Then he yowled, snatching back his hand. 

He turned to flee; Angelus put a boot out and tripped him. 

He fell full-out, in a tangle of torn garments. 

"What a ragamuffin you are all of the sudden. Better to take 'em off, I'm thinking. We're all gents here, an' no need for false modesty." 

" _False!_ " 

"S'only kind likes of us could possibly have." Angelus leaned back against the dresser. "Come now, you don't want me to have to help you out of 'em? I expect you wouldn't care for that." 

"I care for none of this! I was never so treated--" 

"Well, you've entered a stage of existence where everything's a new experience, and ain't that just a fine to-do?" 

"I--" 

"Get 'em orf. 'Fore I shuck you myself, like an oyster." 

End of story fragment


End file.
